Birds and Dragons
by EriLenx07
Summary: Because they feared, they taught her to hate and hate and hate. But really, she's never been one to fall quite so low. OC!Self-insert as fem!Draco Malfoy.


(Chapter 1)

Reincarnation is a strange concept, and certainly not one that Draco Malfoy would have ever believed in. Too flimsy, too whimsical for his father's tastes.

After all, death is supposed to be the one and only certainty in life. To think of it as anything less is almost unheard of in wizarding culture - it is the very reason why the Avada Kedavra, the Killing Curse, is the worst of all three Unforgivables.

One can, perhaps, come back from being tortured to the point of senselessness. Maybe, maybe.

( _Not._ )

Mind control is not a permanent state.

( _No, that's just the scars._ )

Death, on the other hand, is undeniable. Irreversible. Painful to all but the one dying - at least, when a magical green light is involved, that is.

Now, Draconia Malfoy is an entirely different story.

Draconia has always been a daydreamer, you see. Her head was always in the clouds or buried in a book - far, far away from the etiquette lessons and political know-how that her parents tried oh so hard to drill into her head.

The great and ever-so-esteemed Malfoy family wouldn't be surprised at all if their daughter believed in nonsense like reincarnation. It's better than her obsession with _muggle_ _chemistry_ , at least.

(Feel free to insert a pretty little pureblood shudder at the words _muggle chemistry_ , the statement hardly feels complete without one).

Ask Lucius Malfoy about whether or not his daughter will be following in his footsteps and he will laugh. Ask Narcissa Malfoy if her daughter will join the rest of the family in Slytherin and she shall also laugh.

After all, Draconia is _very_ well aware of what will happen if she does.

To be quite frank, ever since she was around six or so - old enough to comprehend the memories that rushed through her mind at night, as her brain processed the extra information that came with her soul - Draconia knew that this is her second life.

Worse yet, she knew that her nickname, _Draco_ , (Draconia is _such_ a mouthful) is not truly hers. Instead, it belongs, belonged, to one Draco Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy - heir Malfoy, honorary ferret, stuck up snobby bigot extraordinaire.

In simpler terms, he is the one that she has replaced.

To be blunt, her male counterpart was quite the arse. She would know - she _was_ a certified Potterhead. She knows anything and everything _Harry Potter_ , even with the years weathering her old life's memories.

As such, she is very well aware that the causes of the fate and idiocy of Draco were a fifty-fifty combination of an awful personality and a ridiculously high class upbringing.

Draco Malfoy was a bully, easily manipulated, with too many resources going to his ego rather than the ambition that supposedly got him into Slytherin.

On some level, she _is_ Draco. Hell, she even introduces herself as such.

However, she would _not_ be making his mistakes, ever. She isn't going to go around calling wonderful people _mudbloods_ , she isn't going to hide behind her father. She won't hurt anyone that doesn't deserve to be hurt or manipulate anyone that doesn't need to be manipulated.

She is going to be different.

Easy enough.

* * *

"Mother!"

Draco was, by all standards, a very affectionate child. Most purebloods would be appalled at her lack of restraint - what kind of an heiress _jumps_ into her mother's arms?

Narcissa Malfoy merely laughed at the eager display. She's had eleven years to get used to it, after all. "My little dragoness," the beautiful woman greeted warmly, wrapping her arms around Draco's small form. "I hope you know that if this is about that book you wanted, my answer still hasn't changed."

Draco pouted. "I know, I know. I have to wait and ask Father about it when he returns."

The book in question, a wonderfully written physics text that Draco recalls having been published at around this time back in her first life, would only be one of many muggle science texts that filled Draco's room - much to her father's chagrin.

Originally, her parents had not been very happy with Draco's fascination with the beautiful art that is science. In fact, her father had gone as far as to ground her for a month for so much as touching a muggle text, much less asking their house elf to procure one for her.

That hadn't been very fun. She _was_ a twenty-going-on-eight woman/girl/whatever; it was _beyond_ demeaning.

Of course, she had known that she looked eight. Was eight.

Draco just didn't care. She hardly ever acted her physical age - no wizarding eight year old would argue with her elders about the logic behind magic and wizarding law (as she often did) or read five-hundred page tomes pillaged from the family library instead of playing with her expensive toys or interacting with guests of her age group (brats are not her style).

And so, she rebelled.

For an entire year, Draco continued to bring science texts to the dinner table each and every day (ah, the wonders of an enchanted trunk - her relatives got her the _best_ birthday gifts and her parents didn't even know about half of them), and each and every day Father burned them right in front of her face.

Draco could feel something die inside of her with each lost book, but it was nonetheless worth it.

After all, stubborn racist assholes can still be good parents, in spite of the fact that they are, indeed, stubborn racist asssholes. And like any good parents, they knew when enough was enough and finally sat down and actually _talked_ to Draco about their… issues with her interests.

It was a simple argument, really. They didn't want her "stooping" to the level of muggles, as that went against every last bit of their supremacist ideology. In order to come out on top in such an argument, Draco had to play to their ideology, while also holding on to her own. A compromise, so to speak.

And so, Draco told them that she was going to use muggles in order to further the wizarding understanding of the world. She told them that muggles had already reached the moon ( _Merlin, how can they breathe up there?_ ), that they had already explained so much that magic could not.

She, a nine year old ( _ha_ ), declared her intentions to become an Unspeakable.

This, they decided, was an acceptable reason and goal. However, should she ever waiver from that goal or show _unnecessary attentions_ to muggles, then she'd be cut off ( _they can try_ ).

Of course, the deal came with a few drawbacks here and there - such as being known as some sort of genius, a prodigy. Her declaration could be met with nothing less - after all, children traditionally weren't so obsessed with academics or so obviously not-childlike. This meant that she had to deal with a multitude of tutors and the like - her father was going to milk this for all it was worth and he couldn't do that without any real evidence to back up her reputation.

Mother sighed in fond exasperation. "I will never understand that fascination of yours, Draco."

Draco giggled, rolling her eyes affectionately. "And I'll never quite understand your bigotry, but we can't get it all, right?"

The elder woman didn't grace that with a response. The point had been argued over and over again - and like Draco, the Malfoys were as stubborn as they came. Draco may have gotten her way with her books, but she will never win on the subject of muggles being people, not disgusting animals.

"You'll understand eventually," she said with a heavy sigh, as though the weight of the world rested upon her shoulders.

And in a way, Draco supposed it did - Narcissa Malfoy's world, that is. Her.

Harry Potter was such a black and white series in many ways, though it was grey in others. _Pureblood supremacy is bad. Racism is bad_ , J.K. Rowling said in many more words.

Draco isn't saying that the woman was wrong. She wasn't. But she'd also like to point out the psychology of war - that is, that of the other side. The minds of the "bad guys" are very interesting things, after all.

Now you see, it should be said that Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy are not unreasonable people. They are very open to change. It would not have been nearly so easy to convince such a stubborn society convinced that they were evil that they are not, in fact, evil, if they could not at the very least _appear_ to change.

They could put on a smile when talking about muggleborn rights, host charity balls for the "right" causes, support the "right" people.

And Draco herself knew that they are, in actuality, very open minded. If they weren't, then she would never have been able to get her way.

Hell, if things were different then she might have even been able to see them _supporting_ muggleborns.

Now, you see, _little dragoness_ was not a nickname conceived by her mother. It was, in actuality, conceived by her father.

Yes, Lucius Malfoy is a manipulative, horrible excuse for a human being that could easily torture anyone he disliked without feeling bad about it at all. And yes, he is a Death Eater. She isn't saying that none of that's true.

But she _is_ saying that he's not all bad. After all, there is no truly evil man that would give his daughter piggyback rides if she asked with puppy dog eyes, that would teach her how to play Quidditch on a training broom with such loving patience, who would smile and ruffle her hair whenever she recited her newest discovery about magic.

There is no truly evil man that would begrudgingly play dolls with his four year old daughter if her mother was not around - " _to teach you etiquette_ ", he would insist, and yes, he did teach her etiquette while playing with dolls. Because her father _is_ ridiculous like that.

There is no doubt in Draco's mind that her father loves her more than life itself.

It's a simple fact of life within the Malfoy household - muggles are bad, Draco is strange and Lucius and Narcissa love her anyway.

Which then brings us to why exactly they are still so loyal to the pureblood ideal - _fear_.

They are, after all, perfectly aware of the fact that Voldemort could come back at any moment. Father is even more aware of the fact that he was in _far_ too deep to back out now and if he did?

If he were to admit that he was wrong, that Voldemort was wrong, that their methods were wrong?

Lucius Malfoy has seen _exactly_ what that monster is capable with his own two eyes. He knows there are no limits to Voldemort's wrath.

He knows, perfectly well, that should he show even a drop of disloyalty then it is not only his and his wife's lives at risk, but his daughter's as well.

He'd rather die than let anything happen to his precious daughter - she's heard him tell her mother so. If that meant bowing down on his knees to what could only be described as humanity's greatest monster, then so be it.

Draco had to admit, she understood why her counterpart worshipped this man so much. He may not show it in public very often, but at home he gave her every last drop of love and attention she desired.

 _My father would destroy Dumbledore if I told him about this,_ Draco Malfoy probably once said.

 _My father would have this school shut down. Have this teacher fired. Ruin every last one of your worthless little lives!_

Those weren't idle threats. He could and he absolutely _would_ do those things so long as it meant that Draco was happy and healthy. Her counterpart's haughtiness had (well, almost) nothing to with haughtiness and everything to do with confidence in his father's love for him.

And so they taught Draco to hate and hate and hate because they loved her and they feared for her.

Too bad Draco's never really been one for that whole "hate" thing.

* * *

" _I_ should just tell Malkin to give you a standard Ravenclaw set of robes and be done with it," Lucius Malfoy complained as they strode through Diagon Alley elegantly, like the perfect little pureblood royals they were.

Well, her father _tried_ to walk like that. He was doing a pretty good job of it too, considering the fact that she had latched onto his arm and wouldn't let go, not even after five whole minutes of threats and lectures about decency.

"Oh, could you?" Draco asked, looking up at him with her best puppy dog eyes. Ravenclaw was her absolute dream come true, after all. Just imagine all the books! Philosophical debates! Riddles! Logic!

Besides, you only really bought standard, enchantable Hogwarts robes for your first year - after that they're only sold by house.

"No."

"Damn." Draco pouted.

" _Language_ , Draconia. I still have my hopes that you will finally put in some effort to do well by our family and enter the noble house of Slytherin," her father said in what was probably meant to be a proud tone of finality, but anyone could tell that he sounded rather defeated. Poor Father.

"No you don't~" Draco singsonged. He really, really didn't. Draco thinks he's quite done with her bullshit, but applauds him for still managing to be a supportive father even with said bullshit.

Father sighed, pointedly ignoring the looks they were getting from just about everyone. They both knew that she knew exactly how to act in public, but she really didn't like acting all prim and properly and it wasn't as if grounding was working on her either - or taking her books.

Since there was no way in hell that either of her parents would ever actually hit her, though they were probably thinking about it with all of the muggle stuff, he eventually gave in on the condition that she would act as she was told during formal events.

"I don't," he agreed with a roll of his eyes. "However, that does not mean that I will be giving up just yet. There is still hope for you. You are a Malfoy, whether you like it or not."

"Ha."

"It is there."

"Mhmm."

"Somewhere."

"- over the rainbow!" Draco finished with a small skip and she was certain that had her father been a lesser man, he would have facepalmed.

"Just _what_ did I do to deserve this…?" Father muttered under his breath. Draco beamed up at him in return. "You love me."

"Of course I do, little dragoness. I would simply prefer it if you were to act in a manner befitting of your status," he responded, affection evident in his normally icy voice. Well, it was normally pretty icy with everyone else - she didn't get that unless he was angry with her.

They stopped in front of a quaint shop - not too big, not too small. A sign informed them that they had reached _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_. "We're here. Try not to embarass me too much, Draco."

"No promises, Father," Draco responded cheekily. She really did love her father, but she also thought that his reactions to others' reactions to her existence were rather funny.

Father opened the door for them and immediately caught Madam Malkin's attention. With a few words and plastic smiles, Draco found herself alone in the shop as her father went to take care of some business as she got herself measured.

Well, not alone alone.

After all, Harry Potter is there too.

Ah, yes, she nearly forgot that she was to be meeting the great and illustrious Harry Potter on this very fine day in this very fine shop (those dress robes are simply _divine_ , oh how she can't wait to be old enough to wear them again!).

It's strange, speaking properly to another child. For all that she has the memories and something of an attitude of an adult, Draco knows that she is a child - far more so than when she was eight or nine and rebellious.

One cannot be treated as a child for eleven years and not come out as that, a child. She _likes_ to play games with her parents when they have the time for it and she _likes_ being her mother's dress up doll. She loves being carried around and most of all, she _loves_ being eleven.

However, that still isn't to say that she actually knew how to interact with people her own age.

After all, she couldn't have a conversation with Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle without talking down to the two idiots. They disgusted her, really. So desperate and eager to listen to her every command and drink in her every word simply because their fathers had done the same for hers.

Of course, she completely understands where they're coming from - the fathers. It's hard not to love the man when one truly knows him.

However, the fact that the two dunces mindlessly believe that she will be the same, that she would follow in her father's exact footsteps to Slytherin greatness, irritates her beyond belief.

Merlin, she hates them.

And then her mother tried to introduce her to Pansy Parkinson.

Don't get her wrong here, Draco loves her mother. The woman is tied with her father for the grand position of Draco's favorite person. However, that isn't to say that she doesn't question her decisions every now and then.

Like Pansy Parkinson.

It isn't the girl's pig face that bothers her. No, no.

It's the pig attitude.

Merlin, Draco's never seen someone so sad - not in the upset way, but sad in the way that this person in no way is comparable to a true human being. She's literally just a mini pureblood trophy wife.

No child is supposed to be so thoroughly obsessed with boys, at this age, in that way, to be able to say _mudblood_ so passionately. And by the gods, it was impossible to converse with her about _anything_.

Hogwarts? _Everything sucks except Slytherin and I'll be queen bee muah ha ha ha._

Dresses? _Oooo, lookie! Mine's the best! Oh, but yours is nice too. I guess._

Well, those weren't her exact words per se, but you get the idea. Draco could go on and on about the people that she has been forced to interact with, but it would be redundant.

It wouldn't help her with her current subject, either.

The issue with Harry Potter is that she wanted to like him. She wanted to love him. With all her other "peers", she had been looking for flaws. She didn't _want_ to like her future enemies at all.

This? This was different.

The boy was awkward, painfully so. He was stealing glances at her and looking away, as though he didn't want her to notice him. She wondered if he had any experience speaking to girls - she imagined he didn't have much, what with his abused childhood and all.

This was it, though. Her chance to get the plot moving in the right direction - to befriend _Harry Potter_.

She can do this. Come on, Draco. You can do this!

"Hello!" she chirped, catching his attention once more. "It's a fine day we're having, isn't it?"

Harry looked surprised for a moment, then glanced around to make sure that she was speaking to him and not to some other, random person. It was a sad sight, she admitted. She wanted to hug him.

"Erm, I guess so?" Oh, this poor awkward baby!

"Can I hug you? Please?" Draco questioned, gesturing with her already opened, currently-being-measured arms.

Harry's eyes widened dramatically, almost bulging out. My, they were so _green_ … "... hug me?! Why would you want to do that?"

"Because you look like you need a hug, duh. Now come here, you."

Flustered, Harry managed to shake his head. "Um, no thank you?"

"Aw…" Draco pouted, lowering her arms. "Well, then it's only fair that you tell me your name."

"Only fair?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and gaining a bit of confidence. "I didn't think I needed to give you anything."

Oh, yes, sass! Oh, how she missed sass that didn't come from her parents before they've had their morning tea! "Yes you do," Draco informed him in a mock-severe tone, her lips quirked up. "My father needs to know the name of the first boy that's rejected me."

"It's my first day of being a wizard and I'm already doomed," Harry lamented, catching on to the teasing tone of the conversation. "It's Harry Potter."

"Ooo… Harry Potter. How exciting! I am Draconia Malfoy, heiress Malfoy, genius extraordinaire," Draco introduced with a flourish, "- but you can call me Draco. Sure, it's got nothing on being wizarding Jesus, but you know."

"Wizarding… Jesus?" Harry asked, puzzled and slightly alarmed. Draco snickered.

"I'll tell you on the way to Hogwarts next week, it's a bit of a story. I mean, I'm sure you know at the least the basics, but there's a lot more to it than you think."

On the public side, at least. He did deserve to know all about the bullshit that he'd be getting for it, after all.

Harry nodded, it made sense. "You're going to Hogwarts too?"

Draco smirked. "Duh. It would be sad if I didn't get to go to school with my first ever friend, don't you think?"

The word stopped Harry like a deer in headlights. She doesn't think that he's ever had any friends, or at least any good ones. "...friend? We're… friends?" he repeated, almost in wonder, as though he couldn't quite understand the concept.

"Yes, yes we are. And you know what friends do?"

Harry took a moment to get over the shock, though it never quite left his eyes. But on the bright side, at least he looked like he was getting the hang of the whole being-friends-with-Draco thing. "Hug?"

"Hug," Draco affirmed, going in for said hug before he could say no. "See, isn't this nice?" she asked, wrapping her arms around his waist whilst giving him enough room to get free if he wanted to.

, it seems, has stopped working. Slowly, but surely, she could feel him start to return the hug - which was nice, since for one thing she's always wanted to hug Harry Potter and for another, she missed being able to hug friends. A lot.

" _Draconia Malfoy! What are you doing?!_ "

Oh boy. Nice timing, father.

* * *

 **A/N**

 **I** _ **really**_ **shouldn't be starting another story, but here I am. Pulling an all nighter to finish this… sigh. All of my other stories, are of course still in progress and not abandoned, so this one might take a back seat to those.**

 **Anyways, please tell me what you guys think of this concept! Like it? Hate it? Reviews, please!**

 **Til next time, ciao!**


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